


War and Rosalind

by AkurahEvol



Category: Original Work
Genre: Magic, Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26097778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkurahEvol/pseuds/AkurahEvol
Summary: This is my first work, an experimental piece in a fantasy setting largely occupied by magic.In my mind this universe is akin to the Victorian era in appearances, but more advanced both socially and technology wise (largely thanks to the incorporation of magic.) I'm not sure if there will be any pairings or romance, or if I will continue this at all. I am fully in sort of LGBT so that may or may not play a part in future relations.I hope you enjoy.





	War and Rosalind

Rosalind Briar was born under April stars – she was not a particularly unlucky child, nor though, was she the opposite. She was not an ugly child, though she was not the prettiest either. She was not particularly poor, nor was she particularly rich. She was smart enough, and eager to learn, but she was not the cleverest person to bless a room. 

What she was, in this very moment in her life – was very, incredibly bored. Even as she made her way past all kinds of finery and magic, silk bustles and men in top hats, twinkling lights and copper machinery, past cobblestone and plumes of smoke. She stopped for a short while, amongst the ladies with their colorful silks, lace trims, and feathered hats. She found them dreadfully boring, with thoughts of little beyond finery and love – even she had to admit however, that they undoubtedly held the best gossip. She stopped by often enough, hoping to catch word of stories far more interesting than sordid love affairs or tales of runaway maidens. There were plenty of those, and stories of witches and wizards off on adventures besides. Those were the stories that Rosalind liked best. She was proficient enough in magic, though not enough to merit formal education beyond the basics – and certainly not enough to warrant an apprenticeship. She was perhaps, a bit jealous of those who were incredibly talented in that area of life.

This day though, the gossip was not about magic or adventure, but about a meeting between kingdoms, and the possibility of war. “It’s true!” one of the girls in yellow silk cried “They’re boring, and ordinary! They don’t even have any magic!” this of course, was followed by gasps and cries of outrage from the other girls, and rightfully so in Rosalind’s opinion. “No magic?! How could that be?” one exclaimed, followed by another who could not help but ask “Then what about science? What about medicines and potions?!” At this utterance the girl in yellow looked quite pleased and smiled at having such undiluted attention. “Well you see...” she explained “They still have science.... they’ve just taken the magic from it!” this time it was Rosalind who could not help but exclaim “Science.... without magic, but how?!” The girl in yellow smiled once more and this time leaned even closer “And get this, I hear that they’ve outlawed magic and even execute those caught practicing!” this time the gasps that followed were gasps of horror, and the conversation moved on to other, much more boring things, so Rosalind took her leave. 

She went on with her errands, carried her satchel heavy with books, and navigated through busy alleyways bustling with merchants and artists, scents of perfumes and exotic spices that clung to her nose, magicians peddling their wares, and all sorts of fantastical distractions. This time though, she did not stop, and walked tirelessly until at last she arrived in front of a warm brick building with a heavy copper sign that read “INKHEARTH” and made her way inside. Rosalind often found herself in places like this, air heavy with the scent of dust and the smell that comes from old pages, her father was after all, a bookbinder. Rosalind did not have the best personality, but the man who looked after the books here always called her “Rosie” and he was old and kind, always waiting with a smile and a crumpet or a spot tea – and sometimes even both. So Rosalind was kind to him in turn, and found his company quite pleasant.


End file.
